My life is the gardener of my body. The brain—a hothouse closed tight
with its flowers and plants, alien and odd
in their sensitivity, their terror of becoming extinct. . . .
Read the rest of the tremendous poem "I Wasn’t One of the Six Million: And What Is My Life Span? Open Closed Open" by Yehuda Amichai here.
I read the entire poem and it's terrific! I found the stanza on "open closed open" very insightful and reassuring.
ReplyDeleteI'm still standing at "My life is the gardener of my body." Once I have meditated on that long enough, I'll move on to the brain and then the rest.... Wow.
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